


let us waltz for the dead

by yaskiers



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Aliases, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Found Family Feels, Honey Cakes, Jaskier is a spy, Other character cameos - Freeform, geralt owns a cafe, jaskier being jaskier, modern au: spies, the rest is history, uses netflix character interpretations, yennefer is an assassin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskiers/pseuds/yaskiers
Summary: Mage accepts a contract. Bard wants revenge. Geralt's café suddenly has two new regulars.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii & Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, ciri & dara
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	let us waltz for the dead

**Author's Note:**

> title from "farewell wanderlust" by the amazing devil
> 
> for tkl <3

Security Classification: Level 15 - Designation Purple

CODENAME: The Mage 

STATUS: Active

BIRTH NAME: Unknown

NATIONALITY: Unknown

KNOWN ALIAS(ES): M, Emma, Jen, Lilia, Jasmine, Anya, Brooklyn, Caroline, Sonia, Yenna

KNOWN AFFILIATION(S): Fearless, Rectoress, Soldier, Heart, Priestess

WEAPONS/SKILLS: Handgun (mastered), Crossbow (mastered), Sword (mastered), Dagger (mastered), Poison (mastered), Hand-to-Hand (mastered) 

WEAKNESSES: n/a

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: Most noticeable by purple eye color. Often wears sunglasses or other eye coverings such as contacts to hide eyes. 

IF SEEN: Contact HQ immediately. Do NOT engage unless Level 10 or higher. Consider armed and dangerous at all times. 

_ Telluride, Colorado. May 20, 2019. 1:04 am. _

_ Warehouse 754.  _

It was almost too quiet in the loading dock.

Josh rolled his shoulders, jostling his gun in the process. 

“How much longer d’you think it’ll take?” He asked the room softly. He wasn’t expecting an answer. “Right. Maybe Soph had a point when she said this shit was making me lose it.”

The others had gone to cover the ground, he assumed. Which left him alone with the shipment. The buyer- some rich politician or another- should be there within the hour. 

A dull thud sounded from within the shipment, and Josh started. They were supposed to be drugged, and most of all, quiet, goddamnit Mark. He moved to open the door, when a loud click stopped him. 

“What the-“ 

A gunshot rang through the warehouse, followed quickly by another. He could hear two bodies hit the ground. Fuck. Lenny and Mark. 

Josh spun around, raising his gun and aiming it wildly. “Shit,  _ shit _ !”

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes for a moment tightening his deadly grip on the trigger. “This is just some fucking exercise or some corporate bullshit like that. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

A cold laugh rang through the room, and his heart dropped. That wasn’t Mark or Lenny’s laugh.    
He backed up until his back hit the container, his eyes wide and his gun swerving erratically. A woman appeared on the ledge above him, and rolled her bloodstained sleeves up. She was wearing a black dress with a high collar and long sleeves, and oddly enough, sunglasses in an already dim warehouse. They were spattered with blood. A gun was held lax in her hand, but he knew that he couldn’t trust that alone to save him. Lenny had always been a quicker shot than he, and now Lenny was dead.

He knew he should shoot, run,  _ something _ . Anything but stand there, frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. 

She vaulted off the ledge, rolling off the landing and coming up with her gun drawn. With her fall her glasses fell off, though her head was turned so he couldn’t see her full face.

She straightened to her full height, and finally her head turned to look at him. She raised her free hand to her mouth, and spoke to the bracelet on her wrist. “Target confirmed. Guards have been dispatched.”

The last thing Josh saw was the dark barrel of a gun and the glint of the violet eyes which stared at him from the end of it. 

  
  
  


_ Bengaluru, India. May 24, 2019. 8:52 pm. _

_ Sangeeta’s Tea and Dining. _

Riya had just finished closing when the woman walked in. 

“Ma’am I’m sorry we’re-” She tossed a thick stack of rupees onto the counter. “Still open?” They finished weakly, counting the money absentmindedly. 

“Keep it open for another hour,” the woman said. Her voice was rich, and she had an accent that Riya couldn’t place. “And I’ll pay you double that. Deal?”

Riya agreed without hesitation. What was one hour for someone with no social life anyways? Plus they didn’t doubt the woman could pay, judging by her expensive clothes and glasses. 

The woman smiled. “Excellent. Now, I’ll have two teas and one order of chicken makhani, to go please.”

“Right away.” It was just their luck that they still had some of the butter chicken left. Maybe the universe was smiling on them, for once. 

A quarter of an hour after the arrival of the first woman, the bell rang once again as another walked in. 

“Em!” she exclaimed, and went to kiss the first woman- Em, apparently- on the cheek. It was a scene which looked straight out of one of those english movies Riya had seen on the television. 

“Tri,” Em said warmly. “It’s been too long.” 

Maybe Tri and Em were American fashion names? 

Tri laughed and slid in the seat next to Em. “And whose fault is that?  _ Someone _ decided to take the Colorado job. You could have been in Paris with me, living the good life.”

Suddenly it all made sense. The money, the international jobs, the fact that they were both drop dead gorgeous; these must be world famous models. Well, either that or international spies. Supermodels was probably the more likely option. 

“Speaking of jobs-“

“Tri, I landed here not even four days ago, must we really-“

Em cut herself off when Riya approached the table with the teas and the butter chicken. They set it on the table, and couldn’t help but linger for a moment. They were, after all, in the presence of models. 

“Thank you!” Tri said brightly as she reached for the cup. Riya stuttered something out and fled to clean one of the nearby tables. “As I was saying,” she continued, though her voice was low and Riya had to strain to hear it. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s an old white man who’s done some very very bad things.”

“Well,” Em replied, sipping from her tea. “You sure do know how to tempt a girl.”

“Don’t you know it,” Tri said, and winked. She slid a folder across the table.

Scratch that previous assumption of supermodels. “But rumor has it you’ll be competing with  _ him _ .”

Maybe they were just coincidentally gorgeous and high profile reporters?

Em wrinkled her nose. “ _ Him _ ? Really? I thought he was in Austria.”

“Yes, so did I, but we have intel which says otherwise. So you understand why you’re the only one I trust with this.”

“Fine. When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow.” 

“Family reunions are overrated anyways.” A pause.

Tri raised her tea cup in a toast. “Amen to that.”

Riya’s phone rang, loudly, and the two women looked over at them. “Sorry!” they said. “My mother, she- she was probably wondering why I’m not home yet.”

The two shared a look, until Tri smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine. We’re done here anyways, you can go home, and I do apologize for the delay.”

Em took out yet another large wad of cash- did she have a collection in her coat pocket, or something?- and set it down on the table. She adjusted her sunglasses and stood. 

“It’s been lovely, and this is the best chai I’ve had in months.”

“Oh, thank you, it’s my Ajji’s recipe, and mine doesn’t compare to hers.”

Though the two laughed politely, Riya had the feeling they weren’t really paying attention. They grabbed their cleaning rag and started on their table, pocketing the rupees. Their mother would probably kill them, but this strange evening had been worth it. 

  
  
  


_ Washington, D.C. May 27, 2019. 3:51 pm. _

_ Wolf Den Café and Bakery.  _

“Dara!” Ciri said loudly. “Get over here,  _ now _ .”

“Jesus, ‘Ri.” Her best friend said, hastily throwing on his apron and jogging over. “I’m coming, I’m coming. No need to cry about it.”

“Don’t call me that,” she responded automatically. “And look- the register isn’t working, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

He pointed his finger at her and said mock-sternly: “Ah, ah, ah. I won’t tolerate such language from you, young lady.”

“I’m three months younger than you.”

“They’re three very important months.”

“I hate you.” 

“I love you too.”

“ _ Anyways _ ,” she said, motioning at the register. “What do we do? The first time Dad trusts me with this thing and I break it.”

Dara gave her a too-wide-to-be-real grin. “Have you tried turning it on and off again?”

“Can you be serious for one minute?”

“Fine. I’ll look into it. If it’s not fixed by the time your dad’s back, we’ll blame it on me. It’s not like he can ground me, or something.”

“I take it back. I love you.”

He shoved her and took her place in front of the register. “Good. Also table six wants a honey cake.”

“On it.” She quickly grabbed one of the cakes from the display- she had half a mind to steal one for herself, later, they looked delicious- and was handing it over to the man at table six in record time. 

The door chimed and a woman walked in, talking quietly on the phone with someone. She approached the register that Dara was fixing, so Ciri skirted behind the counter quickly. 

“I’m so sorry, but that register is broken at the moment. I can take your order here, if you’d like?”

The woman smiled at her and walked over. “I’ll call you back.” She hung up, and then turned to Ciri. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem- also, I love your sunglasses.”

“Oh, thank you so much! I got them in London, if I remember correctly. And I’d love an iced coffee, if you could.”

“Got it,” Ciri said, punching the order into the backup register. “And London, wow.”

“Yes, I was visiting a friend there. It was a memorable trip.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said. “Your total is $3.25. I’ll have that out in just a moment for you.”

“Ciri! Register!” Dara called from table four. 

“Coming!” she turned back to the woman. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She said. Out of the corner of her eye Ciri saw her take a seat at the window, and look over at the Foltest Industries building across the street. 

Once she had taken the new family’s order, she hurried to make the iced coffee and bring it over to the woman.    
“Sorry for the wait,” she said. 

“Not a problem. Do you run this place alone?”  _ You seem a bit young _ went unsaid. 

Ciri brushed her hands on her apron. “Nah, it’s usually my dad’s place, I’m just taking over today while he visits some friends.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed amiably. “I’m Yenna, by the way. I just moved here and this is the closest coffee shop available and,” she took a sip of her coffee. “By far the best. So you might see me here quite a bit.”

“Well, we could never refuse a future loyal customer.” Ciri laughed. “I’m Ciri.”

A crash sounded from the back room, startling Ciri and causing most of the customers to peer curiously through the door. “I’M FINE!” Dara shouted. “BUT, UH, CIRI?”

“Gods, Dara,” Ciri muttered. “It was great to meet you, Yenna, but it seems my idiot coworker needs some help back there. Hope to see you soon!”

Yenna smiled knowingly. “Idiot coworkers are something I greatly relate to. Good luck.”

Scowling, Ciri re-tied her apron and rushed to the door to the back. She could feel a headache coming on. Honestly. 

* * *

Security Classification: Level 15 - Designation Blue

CODENAME: The Bard 

STATUS: Active

BIRTH NAME: Unknown

NATIONALITY: American (Suspected)

KNOWN ALIAS(ES): J, Jules, Sebastian, Ryan, Connor, Joey, Nathan, Robert, Peter, Leo, Julian

KNOWN AFFILIATION(S): Troubadour, Countess, Knight, Warlock

WEAPONS/SKILLS: Hacking (mastered), Dagger (mastered), Bombs (mastered), Throwing Stars (mastered), Handgun (mastered), Quarterstaff (mastered)

WEAKNESSES: n/a

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: Visible scar on left side of neck. Wears high collars/scarves/makeup to conceal it.

IF SEEN: Contact HQ immediately. Do NOT engage unless Level 10 or higher. Consider armed and dangerous at all times. 

_ Sankt Johann im Pongau, Austria. May 21, 2019. 14:48 pm. _

_ Schloss Hohensalzburg. _

Xander was so tired. He was tired of Europe, he was tired of his parents, and he was really,  _ really _ tired of whatever castle he had been dragged to. Again. 

Like, did nothing interesting ever happen in Austria? He was pretty sure all the country had was old streets, old buildings, old music, and old people.

Or maybe that was just who his parents associated with.

Either way, he wanted to go home. He missed his friends. And Fortnite. And Starbucks.

“Can I wait in the car?” He whined to his mom, poking her arm. “Please.”

She replied without even looking at him. “Only if you find four things in this exhibit and then tell me about them when we come back to the car.”

“Deal!” He could look up the exhibits when he was in the car. His mom wouldn’t notice, she was too busy looking at tapestries or something. 

But just as he was about to go out the door to the car, the keys clutched tightly in his hand, he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. A man with large headphones and an empty Starbucks cup in one hand was just turning the corner. Maybe he was getting a refill! If Xander could find a Starbucks in this godforsaken fortress thing, he swore to like, the god of fortnite, that he would never complain again. 

Slipping the keys into his pocket, he looked around quickly to make sure none of his family was lurking nearby, waited a couple seconds, and then walked as casually as he could after the man. 

The castle was bigger than he had first realized, and the halls twisted and turned around him like a maze. He could barely keep up with the man. Seriously, how remote was this Starbucks? Then again, his sister had taken almost two hours to find one in the Berlin airport, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising. 

It was dark down there, too, and he could barely see his hand when he waved it in front of his face. He was following the sound of the man’s footsteps, until they suddenly stopped. 

He kept walking, though, until he slammed face first into what he assumed was one of the armor displays from those old knights. A beat of silence, and all Xander could hear was his own breathing. 

“Well don’t keep me in this rather cliché suspense, darlings,” a voice Xander figured belonged to the man said suddenly, echoing through the hall. “I know you’re out there.”

Was he talking to Xander? No, he realized as he heard the rustling of clothing from the dark. He couldn’t be. 

Something landed with a dull thud ahead of him, and then a strange hissing sound filled the air. Xander coughed and shoved his face into his sleeve as he breathed something thick and horrible in. His eyes stung even through the fabric, and a crawling sensation traveled up his arms and down his back. 

Sounds of a scuffle, harsh breaths and words that Xander’s mom would say (and then insist that he hadn’t heard them) grew louder and louder, as well as a scraping noise he had no idea of. 

He backed up, hoping to find the corridor he had come from but the smoke was everywhere, and he only succeeded in falling back over the armor he had first stumbled into. 

He landed on the ground, hard, and tried to make himself as small as possible. The noise was only getting louder, and louder, until it was all he could hear, even over the ringing of his ears. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, curled up and trying desperately not to cry. 

After what felt like hours, everything quieted suddenly. Something heavy hit the floor, and then the only sounds Xander could hear was the harsh breathing of someone. Was it the man?

“I  _ liked _ that shirt,” the voice from earlier whined. “It was french!” 

Xander hesitantly sat up, and opened his eyes slowly. A flashlight lying on the wood was illuminating the scene which met him. 

The man from earlier was crouched over... a body? He was wearing a black mask covering the lower half of his face, which explained why he hadn’t had a reaction to the smoke. His eyes were blue, alert, and there was blood running from the corner of his temple. Ouch, Xander cringed. It looked just like the cut he had gotten when he had fallen off of the railing at school. 

He must have moved, or made some sort of noise, because the man whipped around to look at him, reaching behind him to grab something. He picked up the flashlight, and pointed it directly at Xander.

“Who the- oh, oh shit. Hey kid,” he came up close to Xander, close enough that Xander could see what had ruined his shirt was blood. For the first time since he had followed the man, he felt scared. 

It must’ve shown on his face somewhat because the man’s expression changed from suspicious to concerned. “Hey, hey, alles gut, alles gut. Sind deine Eltern in der nähe?” 

“I-I don’t, I don’t speak german,” Xander forced himself to say, ignoring the shaking in his hands. 

“Oh good, my german sucks.” The man winked. “Look, my name is Nathan, I’m an actor from California. That man over there-” He gestured vaguely behind him at the unconscious body. “Is my co-star, and we were just practicing one of our scenes before the crew gets here.”

That made sense. “Oh,” 

Nathan smiled reassuringly. “Cool, right? Now, do you know where your parents are? I can bring you to them.”

“I don’t know,” Xander said, and could feel himself tearing up again. He felt like a coward. “I- I said I would wait in the car but then I saw you and I thought there was a Starbucks so I followed you but then it was dark and loud and the smoke  _ hurt _ -”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. That smoke, it’s just special effects, I promise.”

Xander sniffed. “Don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, it’s a pretty good dupe. Here,” Nathan offered his hand. After a long moment of consideration, Xander took it. His hand was warm, comforting. “There ya go. Let’s get you back to your family, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay.” 

The way back seemed faster than the way there. They had just reached the first turn from the door when Nathan’s phone rang. “Dam- Darn it,” he said, before pulling it out of his pocket and pressing the button. “Hey Val, what’s up?”

Xander heard a murmur from the phone.

“Yeah, I got it,” Nathan answered. “Well yes- look I’ll call you back, okay? Gimme ten.” He looked back down at Xander as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “D’you think you can find your way back from here, kid?”

Xander nodded. 

“Great. And, maybe don’t tell your parents about this? It’s a top secret acting secret.” He winked. Xander nodded solemnly. He could do that.

“Xander!” His mother’s voice called, and Xander turned to run to her. 

When he looked back, Nathan was gone. 

_ Location: Unknown. May 24, 2019. 12:06 am. _

_ Troubadour’s Office. _

The Bard was a mystery. A riddle wrapped in an enigma, if you will. 

Brigitte had worked in the security detail at Oxenfurt for years, and she had yet to see anyone quite as confusing as the Bard. For multiple reasons.

Firstly, he had appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of the night. No one, not even Troubadour, knew his true identity- or what had been his true identity- or anything about his past, really. 

Secondly, he was just  _ too good _ . Every mission completed meticulously, and finished with not a hair out of place. If Brigette didn’t know any better, she would say it was suspicious. But no, he had been with the agency for too long.

And honestly, if the Bard turned against the agency then they probably deserved it. 

But most incredibly about the Bard was that he managed to be all of these things while also being a complete disaster. Seriously.

Nearly every high ranking agent had regaled her with tales of him getting drunk in the middle of the mission and still having flawless aim, or showing up two hours late to the meetup with an iced coffee (with the suspect tied up in his backseat, also holding an iced coffee, though how the suspect was supposed to drink it while gagged was anyone’s guess). It was a miracle he was still alive, let alone one of the most high profile agents in the international spy community. 

Speak of the devil, she thought as the Bard turned the corner. “Brigette!”

“Bard,” she replied warmly. An enigma he may be, but he was a kind one. To his allies. “How was Europe?”

“Oh you know,” he shrugged, fidgeting with his sweatshirt. The hood was up, hiding the scar she knew was there. “The usual. Streg had some friends waiting for me, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Sounds like a party. I’m assuming you’ve got a briefing?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Maybe this is the time Troubadour finally ends me for being late.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’re too valuable for that.”

He winked. “So glad you think so, milady.”

“Just- go in, you. Shoo!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. It was nice talking to you, Brig.” 

She glared at him. “That makes my name sound like brick. Get inside before I fight you myself.” 

He poked her as he walked through the door. A child. Honestly.

As was customary, she stood directly outside of the office. As Troubadour’s longest guard, the classification details were lax around her. Which meant that she was trusted not to run to rival agencies the second she heard information through the door. 

“WHAT?” She heard through the door, the Bard’s voice sounding muffled through the door. “AND YOU ONLY TELL ME THIS NOW?”

A beat. And then whatever Troubadour would have replied was interrupted by the building exploding. Brigette fell to the floor, and the last thing she saw was a beam falling from above.

Then it all went dark. 

  
  


_ Washington, D.C. May 27, 2019. 2:24 pm. _

_ Wolf Den Café and Bakery.  _

“Dara!” He heard Ciri call from the back. He slid his phone into his pocket and pulled on the apron. 

“Coming!” He shouted back. “Calm down Ciri, we don’t open until, uh, six minutes. We’re fine.” He heard his best friend sigh and he could practically picture the expression on her face. She had been anxious about this, and he doubted that he was helping much. “Sorry,” he called.

She emerged from the door, flour smeared on her face. She looked tense, but not in danger of actually freaking out (finals had been last week, and that was a familiar expression to them both). “It’s fine.”

“It’ll be fine, you know that right?”

Ciri crossed her arms and hugged herself. “Yeah, but it’s also the first time I’ve ever run the café alone, you know that.” 

“Well yeah,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure if you can write a twelve page essay in four hours while running on no sleep for your history teacher, you can handle running the place you’ve grown up in for one day.”

She laughed. Mission complete. “That’s a fair argument.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, you know I’m always right.” Going by her expression, she sincerely doubted that, but he cut her off before she could argue: “You go clean up, you look even worse than you did last thursday and that is saying something. I’ve got this.”

“Promise?” She asked.

“Promise.”

Incredibly, it was exactly three minutes after opening when the first customer walked in. It was unusual, to say the least. Wolf Den wasn’t unpopular by any means, but it still took at least half an hour before they usually got a customer, especially a first time customer. 

Dara had worked at Wolf Den with Ciri for almost a year now, and he liked to believe that he knew all the regulars, and this man wasn’t among them. 

“Hey!” The man said brightly as he approached the counter. “You’re open, right?” A bit of a useless question, considering the open sign and the unlocked door Dara thought, though he nodded. “Great,” the man continued. “Uh, I’ll get a lemonade? Small, please.”

“I’ll get that out for you in a sec,” Dara replied, cursing the register for being so old. It would break any day now, he would swear by it.

“Thank you! I’ll be sitting over there, if that’s alright? Oh, and I’m Julian, by the way.” 

Dara gave his best customer service smile as he scanned his memory for where the lemonade packets were. Usually no one ordered them, especially not so early in the summer. “Sounds good! Thanks for stopping by, Julian.”

Thankfully it didn’t take him too long to find the packets (they were hidden in the back of a cupboard in the storeroom, which he blamed on Geralt), though by the time he emerged Ciri was standing at the register and helping one of their regulars. Julian was sitting at table six, a laptop open in front of him and various textbooks and notepads spread across the table. 

Probably a grad student or a teacher, then. 

He set the drink down as carefully as he could among the mess. 

“Oh, thank you!” Julian looked up at him. “And, I don’t suppose I could get one of those honey cakes, too?”

“No problem-” Dara started, only to be cut off by Ciri calling his name loudly. “Ah, I’ll have that here in a second, looks like I’m needed up there.” Julian laughed with a sympathetic shrug. 

“Take your time, I’m not in any rush.”

For once, Dara was grateful for his customers. They certainly seemed the lesser evil, he thought as he jogged over to his best friend. He had known the register would break, but at least it hadn’t broken while he had been using it. 

Maybe the gods were smiling on him. Just this once. As a treat. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> translations:  
> "ajji"= kannada for grandmother/grandma  
> “Hey, hey, alles gut, alles gut. Sind deine Eltern in der nähe?”= "Hey, hey, everything's okay, everything's good. Are your parents nearby?" 
> 
> hello everyone!! sorry for the bit of a break I've had from posting, school is back in full swing and I'm just trying to pass this year. I feel a bit bad for my involuntary hiatus, so I offer this wip I've had saved up since July! the original plan was to write the whole thing and then post, but I'd feel better posting at least chapter one to get some more feedback :)
> 
> that being said; updates for this fic will likely be slow even by my standards!! this is as of right now the only completed chapter, and since i have very little time to write it may be a while until I have the others :( posting wips is always a big challenge for me so bear with me snfksfjdsk
> 
> other notes:  
> this is the only chapter with povs from ocs all other povs will be from characters from canon!  
> this format is a bit different than my regular, but I figured if I would go out of my comfort zone to write about spies of all things (my only experience in that is other spy aus and a ten minute compilation of James Bond on yt) I might as well change things up a bit hehe
> 
> as always, thanks for reading! :)


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